Foodie. Feminist. Wanderluster.

Three Books NOT to Pack for Your Summer Holiday

If you’re not already on holiday, you may be heading towards sunshine and beaches (not that we can complain in the UK right now) very soon. There have been three stand out moments where I’ve found myself on holiday or returning from a holiday absolutely regretting my choice in book. While these three books are actually three of my all-time favourite books, I mean it when I warn you: do not take them on holiday with you.

Dear John by Nicholas Sparks

I finished Dear John, lying on a beach in Mallorca, after a day of eating paprika crisps (the BEST) and mucking around with my brother. One might say the never-ending tears were a result of fatigue but those who know Nicholas Sparks like I do will know the utter despair I was feeling as I closed the first Nicholas Sparks book I ever read. (“The first” being an important part of that sentence, as it shows I kept going back for more, even when he made me so sad I swore I’d never forgive him.) Dear John is an absolutely stunning story, and one I’d read again if I could buy the amount of sticky tape possible to put my heart back together. Alas, there simply aren’t enough stationery shops in the world to provide the sufficient amount. I recommend you read it, but do not, under any circumstances, take it on holiday with you.

The Fault in our Stars by John Green

The love story that took the world by storm a few years ago rained all over my holiday to Jersey. I was hooked for the few days we were there for and finished it on the plane home, sobbing real sobs I was warned prior to purchasing the book I would sob. I don’t think it’s an exaggeration to call The Fault in our Stars a modern classic and it’s definitely not an exaggeration to insist you don’t make the same mistake as I do. By all means read this book every night before you go to bed at home or in your breaks at work. No amount of sunshine, unlimited cocktails and tapas, however, will fix the heartbreak you will feel all the way throughout this beautiful tale.

Me Before You by Jojo Moyes

At this point, I obviously haven’t got the memo to pack happy-looking novels with a blurb that insists the characters only ever smile. I spent the last couple of days in Lanzarote a few years back, sucked into the heartbreaking story of Me Before You. I finished it on the transfer back to the airport, overwhelmed by sadness and self-pity. I think this is where I learnt my final lesson; holiday is for happy books only. Me Before You is an absolutely stunning read but if you, like me, become consumed by a story and its characters, unable to distinguish between fiction and real life, do not pack this in your suitcase this summer.

You’ve been warned. Have you any summer holiday book un-recommendations for me?